


come out, come out

by soulofme



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Werewolf Keith (Voltron), Werewolf Shiro (Voltron), Werewolf Turning, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 11:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17059241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: “It’s okay,” he whispered again, pressing his face against the top of Shiro’s head. “We’re going to be alright.”If Shiro heard the spike of his heartbeat, or smelled the fear the coursed through his veins, he didn’t mention it.





	come out, come out

When Keith awoke, it was to the burning sensation of thirst.

He gasped for breath, hands scrambling for purchase on the thin sheets beneath his hands. He sat up, pressing his back against the headboard behind him, and pressed a hand over his mouth as he began to cough violently.

He heard the thud of footsteps long before the figure appeared before him. Shiro leaned towards him, a hand outstretched as if to touch him. His hand fell away at the last second, and he handed Keith a bottle of water instead.

“Here,” he said, voice gruff, and settled into the chair beside the bed.

Keith grabbed the bottle and drank from it greedily, only stopping when his lungs began to burn from the lack of oxygen. He pulled the bottle away from his mouth, gasping like a man starved, and felt the plastic crunch between his fingers as he held it.

Shiro watched him, his expression carefully blank. He was stiff in his seat, shoulders tight and lips pressed into a thin line.

“How do you feel?” he asked after a few moments passed.

Breathing heavily, Keith set the half-drained water bottle onto the nightstand. He recognized that he was at his own home, then, and a sense of comfort washed over him. He didn’t know how they’d gotten here, or what had happened.

“Like shit,” Keith responded dryly, gaze flickering to search Shiro’s face for a hint of a smile.

There was nothing, just a severe expression that made Keith’s stomach twist uncomfortably. He wiped the leftover moisture off his mouth and struggled to think of what exactly made him feel like he’d been hit by a truck.

“What happened?” he finally asked, head spinning with the effort of delving through the thick sludge his memory had become.

Shiro shifted in his seat, the chair creaking beneath his weight. He didn’t meet Keith’s gaze, but even from where he was propped up on the bed Keith saw how his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Shiro said, his tone curt and leaving no room for argument.

Keith felt his brow crinkle as he repeated the words to himself. His stomach all but dropped to the floor when he realized what they meant.

“What did you do?” he asked, voice hardly about a whisper. Shiro shook his head firmly.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he repeated, in a voice so broken that Keith almost, _almost_ considered dropping the conversation all together.

“What the _hell_ did you do?” he hissed, sliding towards the edge of the bed.

Shiro’s head snapped towards him then, eyes flashing a dangerous gold that had Keith’s heart leaping to his throat, even as he told himself there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You would have died,” Shiro grit out through clenched teeth, rising to his feet to loom over Keith threateningly. “I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“You should have given me a choice,” Keith snarled, getting up onto his knees. The top of his head met the bridge of Shiro’s nose, leaving them to glare into each other’s eyes. “It wasn’t your decision to make!”

The fight appeared to leave Shiro at that. His nostrils flared before he stepped back. He shook his head dismissively, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.

“You’re wrong,” he said simply, but there was an edge of doubt to his voice.

Keith uncurled his hands from the fists they’d unknowingly curled into, wincing when a sharp pinprick of pain traveled up his arm. He stared at his palms, at the bloody imprints the claws extending from his fingertips had made. He retracted them with a gasp, watching as the injured flesh began to knit itself together.

He hesitantly met Shiro’s gaze. Shiro avoided eye contact, a sick expression spreading over his face. He seemed to pale several shades as he took yet another step away.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, sounding genuine as ever.

Keith slumped back down to the bed, staring at his hands again. The skin was completely healed now, the only evidence of an injury being the blood crusted where the wounds had once been. He rubbed his thumb over the center of his palm.

He heard Shiro get up, the floorboards whining beneath his feet. His breathing was steady and even, his heart beating steadily in his chest. Part of Keith was disturbed that he could hear it, but a larger part was almost grateful.

Shiro paused by the doorframe, a conflicted expression on his face. Keith waited for him to speak, but the words never came. Shiro opened the door and shut it behind himself with a resounding _click_.

Keith sunk fully onto the mattress, lying on his side as he stared at the window. The sun was beginning to set, the dying orange rays hitting the tops of the streets and bathing everything in a warm glow.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that before his eyes slipped shut. When he awoke next, it was to silence. He strained to seek out Shiro’s heartbeat and was disappointed when he couldn’t find it.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Keith pressed a hand to his forehead. There were the beginnings of a killer migraine pulsing beneath his hand, and he frowned at the thought of struggling through it.

He stood to his feet, his muscles instantly protesting the movement. Keith ignored the feeling and took a few steady steps forward. Once he was sure he wouldn’t suddenly keel over, he left the room and stepped into the hall.

Even in the dark, he was able to make out the shape of the table at the end of the hall and the railing wrapped around the staircase. He walked downstairs and flicked the light on in the kitchen, his eyes blinking rapidly to get used to the brightness.

Grabbing a cup from the drying rack, he stood in front of the sink and nudged the tap on to fill it with water. From where he stood, he could see his reflection in the window.

His face had dried blood on some spots, but there weren’t any bruises or cuts. When he probed at a spot near his brow where a particularly nasty gash had probably once resided, he didn’t feel any pain.

He tilted his neck to the side, eyes zeroing in on the pale mark on his flesh. He pressed cold fingers against it, surprised to feel that the skin was raised and rather sensitive.

“Does it hurt?”

Keith raised his eyes to meet Shiro’s in the reflection on the glass.

“No,” he said simply. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

The corners of Shiro’s mouth quirked upwards.

“It takes some time at first.”

Keith finished the rest of his water and set the empty glass aside. He faced Shiro, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

“How long was I out?”

“A few days,” Shiro mumbled, sitting behind the counter. He drummed his fingertips against the surface, frowning. “I didn’t know if you’d ever wake up. Your heartbeat was so slow.”

Keith pressed his fingers to the mark on his neck again.

“What happened?” he asked. When he saw Shiro shift uneasily, he gritted his teeth together. “Takashi.”

Shiro flinched at the sound of his name. He pressed his palms flat to the counter, exhaling heavily. Keith listened to thump of his heart, ignoring the uncomfortable dig of the counter into the base of his spine.

“The Galra found out you were helping me hide,” Shiro said, staring blankly ahead. “They took you, beat you. Tried to find out where I was. By the time I found you, you were already half-dead.”

Keith tried to reign in his surprise. The Galra were an extensive band of hunters whose sole purpose was to cleanse the planet of all werewolves. Countless legal measures were put into place to ensure the safety of wolves, but the Galra had a way of using brute force to accomplish their goals.

When a rabid alpha had turned Shiro, Keith had been terrified. They been married less than a year at that point, and the thought of losing Shiro made him feel sick beyond belief.

They’d moved across countless states ever since then, adopting different names and identities. On full moon nights, when Shiro’s wolf would growl and hiss to be let out, Keith would shut them in and pray that Shiro wouldn’t howl enough to compromise their position.

The last two years had been incredibly difficult. They’d lost all contact with their friends and loved ones. Keith was sure everyone just assumed they were dead, but there was no time to mourn the loss of their previous life. He had to keep Shiro alive.

And now, it seemed, he had to keep _himself_ alive as well.

“What happened to them?” Keith asked, even though he had a fair idea.

“It doesn’t matter,” Shiro said. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

“You were trying to help,” Keith said, sighing softly. “You saved my life. I can’t blame you for that.”

Shiro gave him a confused look.

“We’re both in danger now,” he said slowly, as if that fact had somehow slipped Keith’s mind. “You won’t be able to live normally ever again.”

“I haven’t lived normally in a long time,” Keith said, jerking his chin in Shiro’s general direction.

Shiro sunk down into his seat, shoulders drooping with the action. He seemed exhausted, and Keith wrinkled his nose as the bitter smell of anxiety colored Shiro’s scent.

“Hey,” he said, pushing off from the counter and leaning towards Shiro. “It’s okay. I’m not mad.”

Shiro looked at him doubtfully.

“I couldn’t let you die,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” Keith whispered.

He rounded the counter, letting Shiro drag him into his side. His husband pressed his nose against his neck, right against the mark, and he carded his fingers through Shiro’s hair as he felt his skin moisten from his tears.

“It’s okay,” he whispered again, pressing his face against the top of Shiro’s head. “We’re going to be alright.”

If Shiro heard the spike of his heartbeat, or smelled the fear the coursed through his veins, he didn’t mention it.


End file.
